[open] born to raise hell, born to raise hell

[odalinquent]

Who: A considerably smaller Nobunaga and You!
When: 11/21-11/27; I'll be using this as a catchall for the whole week.
Where: Prompts for now are @Caissa.
What: An angry ten year old with a gun she barely knows how to use decides to Make It On Her Own on the mean streets of Caissa.
Rating: None for now. Will mark threads appropriately in the subject header though, just in case anything comes up.



[1] 11/21; dusk

[As much as she wants to get right into the crux of the matter, lash out and demand to know what's going on and where she is...she can't right now. She refuses to seek help in a plain and straightforward manner, entirely mistrustful of the people around here simply by nature. For now, she needs to get her priorities in order; she's already covered herself up, but in lieu of actual clothing, she's merely wrapped up in some thin fabric she's carefully wrapped around her body into a makeshift, sleeveless top that goes down as far as her knees, a separate piece of fabric tied around her waist to hold it in place. They're...likely stolen, honestly.

And to avoid drawing attention, she's stashed her weapons elsewhere for now. She just wants something to eat, for the moment...so.

a) Congrats! You've just witnessed a theft which, were it not for you, passing bystander, would have been executed without a hitch. Nobunaga makes off with some fruit from an outdoor stall, hurrying off to enjoy her spoils. Maybe stop her if your morals are more on the scrupulous side.

b) Unfortunately, she's been caught in the act, but not actually caught. The stall owner yells for someone to intercept her escape, but Nobunaga darts and weaves in between the crowd around her with surprising athleticism. If you've decided to give chase, she tries to shake you off by ducking off into an alley ahead...

c) Or maybe you're just passing by a ten year old in a poor excuse for clothing, sat on the edge of the street and eating some fruit. The skins of what she's already eaten are to her left, while the remaining fruit she's yet to eat sits on the ground to her right. Linger too long and she might shoot you a glare, but that's about it. She won't say anything if you don't.]

[2] 11/21; night

[Well, when you're suddenly in an entirely different world in a manner not unlike some bizarre fairytale, your best bet at survival is to know what kind of place you've been brought to. Even she knew that. The only issue is that she's from a fairly tumultuous era in a wartorn land, on top of her own ornery and admittedly paranoid nature. She can't bring herself to just approach someone and ask for help, like some frightened, lost child...it may be an issue of pride too, on top of everything else.

So she waits. She waits until someone's by their lonesome in an empty street, using the cover of night to make her move as quietly as she can, and if all goes well it won't be until there's the sound of a click of a gun that the other person notices something's amiss.]

Turn around...slowly.

[The barefoot girl behind you isn't striking that much of an intimidating figure, sans the rifle in her hand which she is, unfortunately, holding up with one hand courtesy only of her strength granted via the class system. If she fires it like this the recoil would likely knock it right out of her hand; she hasn't had much time to figure it out...

But she somehow lacks the eyes of a child. Plain and simple brown eyes, but with the experience of three years warfare behind her. The eyes of someone who's taken more than her fair share of lives already.]

You're going to answer some questions for me.

Comments

[babbylon]

I am afraid I only have one friend.

[And that's the way it's staying.]

"Comrade" might be a better word. I will accept that designation from you.

[odalinquent]

I only asked about you.

[And she gives him that Defiant Look again. Sinks a little into the water.]

I haven't decided on a "designation" for you...however the older me feels about you won't influence that.

[babbylon]

You're supposed to follow that up with something terrifying, such as, "one that may very well amount to your death", or "but soon it won't matter".

[Gilgamesh grabs for a long-handled scrub brush sitting nearby and whacks her on the head with it.]

You must grow into this tyrant business, and quickly. Indecisiveness ill suits a Demon King.